


The Sense of Time Catching Up with Me

by StupidGenius



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, FBI Agent Derek, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Stiles, I guess???, Injured Stiles, Kinda a Limitless au?, Light Angst, but you don't need to have seen the show to get this, graphic description of wound?????, i mean it's light to me but it may seem angstier to others, ill probably make a second one, kinda pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7856284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And where is Stiles now? Twenty six years old, almost twenty seven, and he hasn't held a job for more than ten months. He redid the fourth grade, almost failed the eleventh, and then decided college wasn't for him and started a band. Of course, that went nowhere. He still lived at home. Everyone around him had gone and grown up, gotten married, had kids. It felt like they were playing a game no one thought to clue him in on.</p><p>OR</p><p>Stiles takes it upon himself to solve the murder of a former band-mate, sticks his nose where it doesn't belong, and gets himself shot. Luckily, he has a certain infuriatingly attractive FBI agent's number on speed-dial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sense of Time Catching Up with Me

**Author's Note:**

> **This fic does contain graphic depictions of injuries.** I think. Just to be safe.
> 
> A quick thing in between Reading the Signs and tumblr prompts. Angsty as usual because, come on. It's me.
> 
> (This may be based (a lot) off the first episode of Limitless.)
> 
> (ALSO, the fic goes back and forth between present day and the past for most of it.)

When Stiles was nine, his mom died.

He remembers sitting next to her hospital bed a little less than a year before, legs swinging back in forth in the chair because he was still too short for his feet to touch the ground. Mom wasn't too bad yet, still about to walk around sometimes and sit up in bed. She was pale, lips chapped, and thin. But her eyes were still so bright, laugh still contagious. She motioned for Stiles to give her his hand, and he did so happily.

_"Blue?" She asks, holding up a bottle of nail polish._

_"Red!" he insists, shaking his head. She smiles._

_"Okay munchkin." She laughs. Stiles gets bored after a moment, and looks out the door to keep himself from fidgeting. He hates the cold feeling of the polish before it dries, and Jackson will probably make fun of him at school tomorrow, but it's fine._

_"Hey mom?"_

_"Yeah baby?"_

_"I think i'm gonna be a doctor when I grow up." he tells her. She pauses to grin at him._

_"Dr. Stilinski. I like the sound of that."_

And where is Stiles now? Twenty six years old, almost twenty seven, and he hasn't held a job for more than ten months. He redid the fourth grade, almost failed the eleventh, and then decided college wasn't for him and started a band. Of course, that went nowhere. He still lived at home. Everyone around him had gone and grown up, gotten married, had kids. It felt like they were playing a game no one thought to clue him in on. So what did he do? He went out and stuck his nose where it didn't belong, and now he's laying in an alley behind a dumpster, _bleeding_.

Did he mention he's been shot?

Yeah, apparently killers don't like it when you confront them in their homes and tell them you know they murdered someone. Who knew? 

Stiles groans, pressing his hand to his side. If he remembers anatomy correctly, he's guessing he's been shot in the kidney. Not that it matters to him, though. The pain is blinding, and his hands are shaking, a cold sweat all over his body. Blood continues to soak his shirt. It coated his hands, brown and flaky where it started to dry. His body feels heavy, vision blurry around the edges. He's pretty sure this is the end. But then -

Derek. Derek gave him his number three days ago, told him to call if he had any information. Stiles had just been calling to talk about his day before, but now? Now, it's pretty useful, considering his situation.

He sits up a little and lets out a sob when it jostles his side, but keeps going. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and turns it on. It's only slightly cracked after the fight with Matt, but it'll live. He, on the other hand, might not.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There are two FBI agents, both with the last name Hale (who knew it was a family business?). The woman gives off Older Sibling vibes, so he names them both accordingly.

"Can you tell us what you were doing fleeing the crime scene?" Thing 1 asks. Stiles leans back in his chair and groans.

"I know what this looks like." He begins. She raises an eyebrow.

"Never heard that one before."

"Listen, you gotta - you have to believe me. Jackson invited me out for a drink yesterday, but he left his wallet, yeah? I'm not gonna lie, i thought about just keeping it, but that really would'a disappointed my mom. So I went to his apartment. Door was open when i got there, so i went in to see if he was okay, _that's all_." He stresses. Thing 1 looks skeptical. 

"So, instead of calling the cops, you run from them when they show up? I'm not buying it." She scoffs. Thing 2 (He debated calling him 'Hot Hale, but, lets be real. Both of them are insanely attractive and way out of Stiles' league) just nods along.

"I knew how it would look!" He says desperately. Stiles can feel a panic attack coming on at the thought of his dad hearing about this. He doesn't need to further disappoint the only family he has left, thank you very much. "Please, you have to believe me. Jackson was a real prick, sure, but i would never kill the guy."

Thing 2 doesn't seem to believe him at all, but at least thing 1 doesn't seem to be sure he's a murderer anymore. She looks like she's about to say something when the door opens, and a tall blonde guy with bright blue eyes interrupts. Seriously, is every agent here a super model???

"L, D, prints on the gun came back negative for your guy. And it's not anyone in the system." He says. Thing 1 sighs.

"Thanks Lahey." She says. Then she turns back to Stiles. "Alright mr. Stilinski, looks like we're done - for now."

"Oh thank god." Stiles slums forward, tension leaving his body. For a second, he was sure his ass was going to jail. Thing 1 is unlocking his handcuffs when he remembers -"Wait."

"What, you want to stay cuffed to the table?" Thing 2 raises an eyebrow. He can really see the family resemblance.

"He speaks!" Stiles smirks. He swears thing 1 stifled a laugh. "And, uh, no i don't. But i think i have some info that might be helpful to you guys."

"Like what?" Thing 2 asks.

"Like, i'm pretty sure _Jerkson_ was on some superdrug he called Kanima?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"As willing as i am to hear about your day, I have a case to work on. Stiles." Derek huffs. Stiles grins in spite of the situation. Derek does that to him.

"so, i think i might be wrong about who killed Jackson."

"We know, Stiles. He's been vacationing in Hawaii, he couldn't have -"

"The killer's name is Matt D-Daehler." He gets out. "And u-uh. I don't really know how to p-prove it yet, but, um. He kind of - he sh-shot me."

"What!?" He closes his eyes for a second and leans heavier against the wall. It's cold, and wet, but whatever. He probably wont live long enough to get an infection anyway.

"Y-yeah." He groans. "Ru-ruined my favorite sh-shirt too."

"Stiles what - are you in a hospital?"

"N-no." He gasps. "I, um. f-funny story, actually. He's. He's still looking for me."

"That is the opposite of funny, Stiles." Someone's talking in the background, too muffled for him to make out. "Where are you?"

"Near the trash where i belong?" He tries. Derek doesn't say anything. "R-right. Okay. I'm in s-some alley, i don't know. I th-think i'm...i'm near..." It's getting harder to breathe. Everything's a blur. 

"Stiles? Stiles, keep talking. Where did he shoot you?"

"I..." he blinks slowly. "It's...m-my stomach? i think." He looks down. His hand's not covering the gunshot anymore, and his blood's still dripping down onto the ground. "S'lot of blood...m'not gettin' this sh-shirt back...am I?" He closes his eyes.

"Stiles?"

"Stiles!"

"St-"

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Stiles wake up when something bounces off his head. He blinks groggily at a balled up piece of paper on the floor.

"Wha?"

"I wouldn't make a habit of falling asleep in our file room." Laura (He knows their names!) says, smirking at him. He sits up and yawns.

"Excuse me, it's not my fault i was up all night doing _all the work_." He shoots back. She shakes her head, then points to the spot right beside him.

"Looks like you weren't alone." Right.

Derek.

Derek had been helping him last night. Well - more like he interrupted Derek's research with coffee, and then decided to help out. He thinks maybe he fell asleep first, since he doesn't remember draping his sweater over his shoulders at any time during the night. He notices Laura has her phone out and groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

"Did you take a picture?"

"You bet your ass I did." She laughs.

"He's gonna kill us. He's gonna kill _me_."

"Who's gonna kill you?" Derek mumbles, finally waking up. Stiles stares in awe. No on should be allowed to look so attractive with ink smudged on their face.

"No one." he says quickly. Laura snorts. Stiles is really beginning to like her.

"So, did you two actually get any work done last night? Or did Stiles distract you and you guys stayed up all night talking about boys? Cause it looks like either one of those is a possibility."

"Shut up." Derek grumbles. 'Actually, we -"

"Yes!" Stiles rifles through the stacks of papers on the table until he finds the note he wrote. "We - well, okay, I - think that the killers one of these four people. Jackson's always been a huge dick, and while i'm sure lot's of people have thought about killing him before, these four seem like they're most likely to actually have done it. They've got the most to lose if anyone found out about Jackson."

"Impressive." Laura hums. "You should probably start heading home now, Stilinski. People are starting to think you live here."

"Alright, okay." he huffs, putting his sweater on properly. "I'll, um. Call me if you solve it, i guess."

"Wait." Derek stop him. He scribbles something down on a piece of paper and hands it to him. "This is my number. I mean. Just in case you find anything useful to the case. You should call." He says awkwardly. Stiles grins.

"I'll do that."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles remembers bits and pieces.

The first time he wakes up, he's on the ground. Derek's face is above him, and something's pressing on his side. This is probably the most panicked Stiles has ever seen him, but he'snot saying anything. Distantly, he can hear Laura talking to someone, telling them to hurry. He closes his eyes. The second time, he feels like he's moving. There are white lights above him. He closes his eyes. The third time, he actually stays awake.

At least, he thinks it's the third time. 

His head feels like it's been stuffed full of cotton, mouth dry. He feels mostly numb, a faint, barely-there pain coming from his somewhere on his torso. Everything feels...slow. When he opens his eyes, the first thing he notices is that it's light out. It takes a second to register that someone else is there with him.

"Derek?" He croaks. Derek startles, quickly shutting the file he was reading.

"Stiles," he breathes. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Tired." he licks his lips. "Water?" Derek nods, passing him a cup. He drinks slowly.

"You've been out for almost twenty four hours." He tells him. Stiles sighs.

"Did you catch Deahler?"

"Laura did." Derek says quietly. "You, um. You begged us not to call your family, and i didn't want to leaves you alone so. I stayed here."

"Oh." He whispers.

It's awkwardly silent for a few moments, before Stiles really can't take it anymore. "You know, my mom wanted me to be a doctor."

"Really?' 

"Yeah. Well. It was something i said once, when she was in the hospital, but she encouraged me to do it. Every time i'd stop by she'd ask me how her 'little doctor's' day was. After she died, I just- i wanted to help people. Become a doctor, or maybe a cop like my dad. But now i'm just...nothing, i guess." Well, that's a little darker than he intended. Derek looks like he wants to say something, but the door opens, surprising them both.

"You're awake!" Laura says. "Good! Now i can can yell at you for being a fucking _moron_ and going after a murderer all by yourself. What where you thinking? You can call to tell us about a dog you thought was cute on your morning walk but you can't call when you have, say, actual useful information about who killed our victim? It actually takes getting shot for you to tell us what's going on? How dumb are you?! How could you do that to us? And then we had to convince the staff not to call your dad?" She narrows her eyes at him. "If you weren't already injured I'd slap you so hard right now."

"Good to see you too, Laura." Stiles says after a moment. She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. Glad you're awake, I guess. I need coffee." 

"She's just worried." Derek says after she leaves. "We...we both were. Just - don't do that again."

"I'm sorry." Stiles sighs. "I probably wont get the chance  to do anything like that again, anyway."

Derek smiles - a real, actual smile! With teeth any everything. "Well, actually -"

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"I've got a badge!" Stiles holds it out for them to see, and Derek huffs.

"That just says visitor, Stiles."

"Yeah, but it's mine! I can come and go whenever i please."

"You know that's not how that -"

"Shh." Laura interrupts. "Let him have this. I've got paperwork to do. You can handle him, right?" She gives Derek a look and Stiles doesn't really understand, and Derek scowls at her. "Alright. See you boys later. And go home, Stiles. You should be resting."

"Huh." He raises an eyebrow. "What was that abo-"

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Derek blurts. he cringes afterwards, like he hadn't meant for it to come out like that. Stiles blinks. "I mean, not right now, but later? When you're healed, and not on any pain medication that could impair your judgement? Since you're no longer a suspect or or anything, i thought maybe -"

"Yes." Stiles grins. "I'd love to."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Death' by White Lies
> 
> Also, i know close to nothing about ho the FBI works, so.
> 
> This now has a sequel! [If you're interested](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8164528).
> 
> [My tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/). Come cry over Stiles with me.
> 
> Want me to write anything? [Leave a prompt in my ask box.](http://stupidgenius.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
